Page 66 of Kiss-Fist
He wants to try and make this work. And now he’s looking up at me like he wants me to fuck him, but I kind of want him to fuck me. The choices are endless. He wants to make this work between us, which means we have time to do this in all the positions.
For as long as we want.
We have a chance, and that’s all I need.
I hold his wrists above him while I ruck up his shirt, showing off that sliver of skin on his stomach. It’s pale and so soft. I reach down and let my hand move under it, savoring the feel of his trembling muscles against my palm.
He makes the cutest noise in the back of his throat as Idrag my hand against him. I smile, moving up to his pec and pinching his nipple roughly.
He wiggles beneath me, his cheeks turning pink as I tug at it, rolling it between my fingers, savoring it.
I know he wants it faster. He wants it quick. He’s impatient, but I want to draw it out. The first time with him? Hell fucking yes. I want it to be so fucking slow that we both lose our minds with lust. That when we come, it hurts.
I don’t want this to be quick and dirty.
I mean, Idowant that, but another time. This, I want to remember.
His hips arch up impatiently once more, and I lean down and kiss his neck, dragging my lips across his throat and nipping at his skin. Just like he did to me.
He moans, and I bite him harder.
The little gasp he gives me is almost too much.
I want to rip him out of his clothes and sink into that body, but I don’t. I restrain myself, holding back a smile at his annoyed little huff.
I lean against his side, my thigh moving against his dick, letting him rut up against it as I work his shirt open with my free hand. It’s a process, not at all easy, and Robbie seems to be working himself into a frenzy. By the time his shirt is splayed open and my lips are on his chest, he’s whining.
I put more pressure on his groin, and his wrists struggle under my grip. I let him go, not wanting to hurt him.
He merely grumbles, tugging on my shirt, wanting it gone. So I give it to him, leaning over him and letting him pull the fabric off my head. I shuck it off my arms a second later and let him take his fill. And he does. He lookslong and hard at my chest, at the muscles I’ve worked so hard to cultivate, to sculpt. His eyes grow hooded, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips. I feel the ghost of his fingertips move up my back, tickling me softly, and then he’s leaning up and sinking his teeth into my pec.
I let out a surprised gasp as he bites down on it, a punishment of sorts for drawing everything out, but that pain soon turns to pleasure, and I groan.
He lets go, peering up at me, his eyes slightly wild.
I can’t help but lean down and kiss him. My body shifts onto his, and our hips begin to grind as our tongues slide against each other. I can feel his satisfied hums, the drag of his fingernails against my back. We kiss like this for ages, the two of us working up a sweat until finally I pull away and Robbie signs, ‘More.’
Yes. I want more too. But I don’t want to rush it.
‘More,” he signs again, and I sit up, shaking my head.
‘Slow.’
‘Fuck slow.’
That makes me grin, and I reach down and drag my palm up his covered cock. He bucks under me and then frowns.
‘Fuck me. Now.’ His signs are clipped and fast. He means it. I know he does, but I have the patience. I can wait. I can draw this out.
I shake my head. ‘Slow.’
His jaw clicks, growing visibly impatient, and before I can process it, I’m on my back, his legs straddling mine. I move to sit up, but he forcefully pushes me back down, and I go with a surprised laugh.
He doesn’t join in.
‘Hate slow. Hate.’
And then he yanks my shorts off, taking my underwear with it.
